


Tender Loving Monster

by slashsailing



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Children, Consensual Sex, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love Affair, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Mirror Universe, Mpreg, Murder, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1341844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashsailing/pseuds/slashsailing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirrorverse lite; where even though Jim is just as terrifying as ever he's deeply protective an completely besotted with Bones and it's all quite romantic. </p><p>Or, although Captain Pike has claimed ownership over the Enterprise's CMO what he doesn't account for is a love affair between the young doctor and Jim Kirk. What will he do when he finds out, and how will Jim and Bones fair as a result?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Loving Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BreTheWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreTheWriter/gifts).



> Basically I've had Part I written for a while as a prompt fill on tumblr but for her giveaway prize Bre asked for an extension showing what happened to Jim and Bones after Pike's death with a healthy dose of "protective, loving mirrorverse Jim".
> 
> I hope you like it Bre!

**Part I**

Christopher slinks into their bed, kisses Leonard’s neck and lights up a cigarette; he only smokes when he’s had a particularly successful day. It’s like a little warning for the doctor: be ready to fall at the feet of your Captain and worship; a process more familiarly known to Leonard as ‘open your legs and try not to scream’. Christopher leans over and tries to kiss his first exhalation of smoke into Leonard’s mouth.

“Don’t,” Leonard huffs while trying to shrug away from the hand pulling his hip backwards. These hands leave bruises.

“Why not?” Christopher asks, voice just a slothful murmur; he sounds faintly bored. Licking a wet line up Leonard’s throat he exhales smoke out over the younger man’s nape. It cloys.

“The smoke isn’t good for me,” Leonard says tentatively.

“You’ve never complained before,” Christopher scoffs, taking another drag.

“That’s because I’ve never been pregnant before,” Leonard spits. He doesn’t want to cause a scene. Or at least, he didn’t, before. But now, now it feels like something to ashamed of: it compromises him; it’s a weakness and Christopher hates weakness. 

“Excuse me?” Christopher demands: confused; sceptical.

“I got the test results back after Beta shift,” Leonard explains, turning onto his back. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re having my baby?” he wonders, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“So you can’t smoke,” Leonard says, deftly avoiding the question, “not around me, anyhow.”

Christopher extinguishes his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table and then proceeds to fuck Leonard six ways from Sunday.

#

The next morning Christopher announces it to the crew like a victory cry. The bridge crew appear congratulatory, as expected - they don’t want to end up with slit throats after all - but they also eye Leonard, who is stood beside the Captain like the court jester, ready to perform, ready to serve, with caution. There is trepidation in their gazes, he holds the key until the Captain’s child is born he is invincible. 

Jim is sat at his console, mapping out strategy, step-by-step plans for their next conquest. He turns to look at Leonard but the doctor averts his eyes, accepts Pike’s hand instead, kisses his captain’s cheek - it’s hard and cold, like the man’s heart - and is dismissed to Sickbay. 

#

Jim finds him, _of course he does_ , in the middle of Leonard’s second shift when the Commander should be heading back to his quarters to sleep, the thrum of the biobeds is the only noise that fills Sickbay - it’s eerily quiet today, as if it’s some sort of sign.

"What do you want, Kirk?" Chapel questions, pulling his medical file up on her PADD. 

"I’ll deal with him, Christine," Leonard offers gently, relieving her of the PADD and gesturing for her to head into the store room. 

"You be careful," she whispers and scowls at Jim. He’s third in Command and honestly the most ambitious creature to ever walk the vast halls of the  _Enterprise_ ; violent too, cut-throat and primal in everything he does. Chapel’s scared that with Leonard in the precarious situation he’s found himself in, housing the captain’s heir, Jim will perhaps make a play for his life. 

This couldn’t be further from the truth. 

The only time Leonard is safe, truly safe, is when he’s in the company of Jim Kirk. 

"Is the baby mine?" Jim whispers, gently edging Leonard back into one of the private bays, closing the door behind them and activating the shutters over the small glass window. The blonde places one hand on Leonard’s hip and slides the other under the doctor’s chin, encouraging Bones to meet his gaze. "Bones?" he prompts. 

"I don’t know," Leonard admits. "Christ, Jim, what’re we gonna do?" 

"You’re gonna keep Pike sweet, I’ll sort out everything else," Jim assures him, hand trailing up from Leonard’s hip to his stomach. "He’s mine," Jim says, with a certainty Leonard could never muster. The confidence that defines Jim. 

"I hope so," Leonard murmurs. "Might be a little girl, though," he adds with a small, crooked smile. 

"They’ll be perfect either way," Jim nods. "But I won’t let Pike have my baby. Or you. He’s been laying claim to you for far too long already." 

"From one master to another," Leonard scoffs, carving out a sardonic twist in his smile. 

"You know it’s not like that, Bones. You’re mine and I’m yours and I love you," Jim promises. 

"Don’t get yourself killed," Leonard huffs… demands, _begs_. 

"I could say the same to you," Jim whispers, both hands leaving their current stations to cup Leonard’s jaw, leaning in to catch the doctor’s lips. 

"I’m scared, Jim," Leonard admits with a derisive huff; like it kills him to admit it, even in front of Jim. 

"Don’t be. If he touches you, I swear to God, Bones," Jim almost growls, his voice grave and the raw loathing raises the hair on Leonard’s neck, gives him goose-flesh over his ribs. Leonard knows what it is like to have that passion directed at him. But in his direction it is always love, always reverence - an overwhelming adoration and tenderness. Jim’s ire, though, his wrath… it’s unspeakable. 

"You should go," Leonard says ruefully, wrapping his fingers around Jim’s wrists, rubbing his thumbs over Jim’s pulse points. 

"I’ll see you on Alpha tomorrow…" Jim nods, but he doesn’t pull away. 

"Go, Jim," Leonard urges, dropping his hands and trying to untangle himself from the pull of Jim’s body heat. 

"I hate leaving you," Jim whispers, ghosting his lips over Leonard’s cheek. He’s smiling when he pulls back, looking at Leonard with pride and awe. "You’re having my baby," he whispers. 

"I’m having your baby," Leonard smiles. "Now go," he shoos, huffing only for show. 

#

When Christopher gets back to their quarters after Gamma shift, Leonard is shrugging out of his own uniform, inspecting the curve of his stomach in their bathroom mirror, it’s still flat for the most part but Leonard is sure there is an inch or so of softness that he’s never had before. 

"Getting self-conscious?" Christopher smirks. "We’re docking at Starbase one next month, I’m bringing Phil aboard to oversee your health and take over as CMO when you hit the third trimester." Leonard would argue, but it’s pointless and he doesn’t want to provoke Pike. 

"Okay."

"Do you know how far along you are?" he asks. 

"The test said eleven weeks," Leonard says, slipping into a black t-shirt and throwing his used uniform down the laundry chute. 

"What made you do the test?" 

"Morning sickness."

"Well why don’t you go and lie down, I’ll be in in a minute," Christopher suggests with a too-sweet smile. 

"It’s only eleven, I was gonna head down to the mess an’ g-"

"It was only phrased as a request out of politeness, Leo," Christopher scoffs. "I’m going to have a shower, prep yourself," he instructs. 

#

Leonard begins to show a few weeks later, and he sees Jim eyeing him constantly, whenever they’re in the same room. Jim looks at Leonard as if at any moment he might reach out and touch. The tension between them is only heightened every time their Captain kisses Leonard’s lips or rests his hand over the doctor’s belly. 

"I’m gonna cut his hands off," Jim grits out; it’s just another one of their many stolen moments, fleeting and heated. "You look worried. Has he hurt you? Jesus, Bones, I swear-"

"He wants Boyce to oversee a scan for the baby’s sex… but he’s doing it via a blood test and it’ll show the paternal DNA too, they’ll know it’s not his. He’ll kill us, Jim," Leonard whispers. 

"When’s Boyce doing the test?" Jim frowns. 

"Tomorrow during Gamma," Leonard says. "Chris only told me this mornin’, like he’s try’na catch me out. Like he suspects." 

"Don’t be ridiculous," Jim shakes his head, taking Leonard’s hand. "I’ll make sure I’m in Sickbay tomorrow. You’ll be fine." 

"Jim."

"Trust me." 

And Bones does. 

#

Leonard is lain out on a biobed, Boyce is on one side of him with the high resolution ultra sound and Christopher is sitting on the other side. Jim is being treated by Chapel for a ‘migraine’ over the other side of Medbay. 

"It’s a boy," Boyce says, and Leonard can feel Jim’s gaze on them. Watching intently, waiting. 

"Good job, Leo," Christopher says absently, pinching the skin of Leonard’s exposed ribs until he bruises. 

"Be careful with him, Chris," Boyce smirks, leering slightly at Leonard, who’s black trousers are pulled down low on his hips. "He’s carrying precious cargo." 

"I don’t want him to get unaccustomed to pain, it’ll only be worse to have to retrain him," Christopher shrugs. Leonard hates that they can just talk about him as if he’s not there - like he’s just a body on a table. 

Well, to Christopher, he is. 

A very pretty body, yes, but ultimately still just a carcass to be used until broken and then traded in for a new model. 

"Wait a minute," Boyce says, frowning at the screen. "The blood test…"

"What?" Christopher demands, he sounds worried, Bones notes, heart racing. 

"You’ve been a naughty boy," Boyce says with a warped attempt at a smile. Then he looks up at the Captain, "your boy has played away, Christopher." 

"Who?" Christopher demand, jaw tense and his fingers digging into Bones’ exposed skin. 

"I’ll run it through the database," Boyce says. 

"No" Christopher grits out; "I’m asking _you_." He looks down at Leonard. 

"Please, Chris," Leonard whispers, trying to be diplomatic. 

"Who?" He repeats. 

"Me," and suddenly Jim is at the foot of the bed, smirking at Christopher like he’s just gained control of the whole Empire. 

"Phil?"

"Kid’s telling the truth," Boyce nods, still looking at the monitor. 

"You mutinous little bastard," Christopher hisses. "When you get out of the booths you’re going to be left with nothing, _James_ , because I’m going to cut your baby out of that  _whore_ and feed it to Spock’s sehlat. Then, I’m going to let your boyfriend bleed out on the table, maybe I’ll even be so kind as to invite some of the more  _lascivious_  members of Engineering to come up and take their fill.”  Pike is standing now, face to face with Jim; he quickly turns to nod at Boyce who requests a security detail to Medbay.

 

"Don’t be ridiculous, old man. I’m not going anywhere," Jim scoffs. "And you won’t be touching Bones ever again. Or  _my_ baby,” he grins. 

Jim’s dagger is buried to the hilt in Pike’s abdomen while he’s still smiling. It is quick and rash and Leonard has to look away. But then Boyce starts to stand and his protective streak swells and there’s a hypo beside the biobed monitor and Leonard knows it’s filled with a sedative and so he makes a grab for it, stabbing Boyce in the thigh. 

Christopher is struggling against Jim and Boyce makes an ‘oomph’ noise as his limb body hit’s the ground. 

"You’re a son of a bitch," Christopher hisses, blood spattering across Jim’s cheek as he talks. 

"You leave my mother out of this," Jim smirks, ripping the knife along the length of Christopher’s stomach, blood and organ pressing out against the laceration. 

"Jim," Leonard breathes. "What are we gonna do now?"

"Spock doesn’t want to be Captain," Jim explains plainly. 

"Security is on its way, Jim," Leonard reminds, frantic. 

"I know," Jim nods. "But Spock is next in command, he won’t booth me and he won’t accept the chair." 

"You’re the Captain now,” Bones says, shaking his head like he can’t actually believe their luck. 

Jim just snorts, leaning forward to catch Bones’ lips. 

Pike should have left him bleeding and bruised in that filthy little bar in Iowa. But he didn’t. And now he’s Captain of the _Enterprise_ , with Bones at his side and a baby in their future. 

They’re no longer a dirty little secret. 

And Bones tastes all the sweeter because of it. 

#

**Part II**

Jim’s control of the _Enterprise_ takes on a vastly different pace to that of Pike’s. Pike was a slothful housecat, proud with a big bushy tail and an endless supply of kibble. He’s made his way in the world and had little need to be particularly active to maintain respect. Jim, on the other hand, is an exuberant hunting dog, sniffing out possible prey, driven by the chase and the desire to kill. Jim is a man made up of motion, it’s like a liquid that’s been filtered into his blood slowly over time that he’s finally able to tap into. He is not idle as Pike was, and crew of the _Enterprise_ seems happier because of it. They turn less on each other now because they are provided with real enemies to set their focuses on. A challenge.

Bones is still as safe as houses too which seems to set the Captain’s mind at ease. He is confident in his position and he does not have to worry that some naïve young medical ensign will try and murder his CMO. They have seen Jim’s wrath, and heard of his valiant defeat of Pike. While some would say it is foolish for Jim to reveal his weakness so early on in his captaincy many are awed by it. A man who has something to lose also has something to fight for and Jim Kirk is a warrior. His battle is fierce and, he suspects, even if his lover weren’t carrying his child not a single soul on the Enterprise would touch Leonard McCoy. For he, to Jim, is a rare jewel; he is coveted and cherished and no one on the flagship is stupid enough to attempt that sort of theft. The Captain would have their hands for it. He would rip their flesh from their bones and feed it to their dying corpse.

Jim’s capacity for revenge is as cavernous as his love. No one would dare trifle with either. They know they could never reach such depths anyhow.

The caesarean procedure is overseen by Jim, who doesn’t have to hold a knife to Geoffrey M’Benga’s throat. The threat is always there with anyone who deals with Bones. Jim no longer has to make an explicit demonstration. It is a quick procedure and it goes well. Their son comes into the world screaming and Jim has never been so proud.

He has never felt anything quite like this; looking down into the nadirs of these round hazel eyes, warm like the Earth’s soil and fertile, ready to soak up all the wisdom Jim will ever be able to impart. It is a divine experience, he thinks and as he clasps Bones’ hand, waiting for him to awaken from the anaesthetic, Jim’s affection seems to proliferate. It is like the mushroom smoke after an explosion, enveloping everything in sight; housing it and keeping it warm.

He will be the father George Kirk never was. He will be the phoenix that rises out of the ashes, rises from the devastation of a loveless childhood. His child will not know fear, he will not know pain or anguish, he will not know loss. He will know love. And power. And victory.  

“You look like you’ve been made King of the damn universe,” Bones says, voice still hazy from the sedation.

“Not yet,” Jim whispers, kissing his lover’s forehead, “there’s still time though.”

“You’re already King of our universe, Jim,” Bones says, reaching for their child.

“Then what else is left?” Jim smiles.

“I’m sure you’ll find something.”

#

The planet is called Niburi by its natives. They are white skinned creatures with black ink painted over their bodies; they hiss and cluck at Nyota as she reads to them the Rite of Genocide. They do not understand Standard and so they will die in pained confusion.

Jim slits the throat of their Emperor himself, swipes his hand across the bloodied neck and declares himself King. When he touches Bones’ cheek the blood stains, Jim dares to kiss it clean and the doctor gently laughs, looking coy and bashful. The Captain orders the rest of the team back onto the ship and they make love right there on the sandy ground. Bones’ back is stained red from it. They have christened a new world.

They have taken it and made it theirs.

“ _Yours_ ,” Jim corrects himself aloud, looking at Bones. “It’s yours.”

“That’s quite a gift, darlin’,” Bones murmurs, letting Jim’s tender kisses wash over his ribs.

“You gave me a son, Bones,” Jim whispers sounding feverish, “there is nothing in this world I could give you that would be enough to show you how grateful I am.”

“We’ll call the planet Horatio Ossum,” Jim says.

“Ossum?”

“Latin for bones, although it can also mean heartwood,” Jim explains.

“You’re a real romantic, James Kirk,” Bones smirks softly, pressing his lips into Jim’s golden hair, watching as the sky turns from blue to indigo and darker. The stars seem to shine so brightly for them. Just for them.

#

The Admiralty let the renaming of that barbaric planet stand but when they attempt to draw up plans to populate it Jim refuses.

“No,” he says, with no fear in his voice. His stance assured and defiant. “It is a gift,” he explains, a snarl curling at the back of his throat. He watches the room recoil from his bubbling rage, his frustration and offense at their suggestion. “It’s a gift I have already given and one I will not recount.”

They attempt to tell him no.

Jim is rarely told no. Rarely declined anything.

He snaps the neck of Admiral Barnett, caves in the skull of Admiral Marcus. The rest of the men and women in the room suddenly begin to agree with him. Nodding warily. He is awarded two shiny new medals of honour and they declare his son fifth in line for the Empire’s throne; situated only behind the current Empresses biological children. Even they, the grand Starfleet Admiralty, fear Jim Kirk. They invited him round for tea even though they knew it would cost them their fine china. But now, in his capacity as a father and a lover he has become more monstrous than anything they could have previously conceived. Jim exits the board room, lip curling in distaste; it is rank with the smell of their terror.

#

The course of the Enterprise is set for Klingon territory; Jim foresees an easy mission, one that he need not handle in person. That fact notwithstanding, his First Officer is itching for a fight, the man’s uncontrolled Vulcan half clawing to be set loose. Jim is a generous Captain, he encourages Spock to go as wild as he needs.

“Leave none alive,” he smirks.

“Thank you, Captain.”

For his part, Jim watches the first hour or so of Spock’s fury until it turns to a blood curdling frenzy and he finds himself feeling lascivious and wanton. He dismisses the bridge crew from their posts and persuades Bones to ride him in the Captain’s chair.

“Careful,” Bones chides when Jim’s fingers dig a little too tight on the doctor’s milky hips, they will have to stop somewhere warm soon, somewhere Bones’ body can be reacquainted with the light of the sun. Jim’s grip does let up, although he wonders at the request. Bones doesn’t mind a little bit of pain with his pleasure.

“What’s wrong?” Jim wonders, the words intermingled with breathy moans. “You hurt?”

“No,” Bones smiles; it’s wry but also tinged with something… _coquettish_.

“What then?” Jim questions, rolling his hips just right to elicit a pleasure fuelled whine from his lover.

“The bruising isn’t good for me,” is all he says, speeding up the movement of his knees, clenching around Jim’s erection. Jim can’t help the choked sound that snaps from his throat. Bones is a deviant, a debauched little harlot and he’ll kill Jim if he carries on teasing like this.

“You’ve never complained before,” Jim groans, it sounds strangled, trapped somewhere deep down, alongside his orgasm.

“I have news,” Bones whispers, licking at the sensitive skin where Jim’s ear meets his jaw. He stills over Jim, who has to bite the inside of his mouth to prevent clutching at Bones’ hips.

“Oh?” Jim prompts.

“You have to be careful with me, Jim,” he says. His voice drops even lower, thick dripping honey that Jim wants to drink from the bottle, “I’m carrying precious cargo.”

The words echo through Jim’s body before they make it to his brain.

“You’re…” but he’s lost for words. Speechless. Grinning.

“Carrying your baby?” Bones supplies, then nods.

#

Jim sits with a son on either knee while Bones cuts up fruit and dishes it out into bowls. They’re on shore leave. On Bones’ planet. The air is so quiet; there is the distant sound of waves, yes, but nothing else. No purr of a warp core or the sound of chattering in the mess. Their eldest jumps down from Jim’s knee. He is five now, his hair sticks up in blonde tufts, still wet from their morning swimming lesson. The youngest is three; he has Jim’s blue eyes and his blonde hair, the same shade as his brother’s but his features are all Bones’. He’s scowling.

“Can we have ice cream?” he asks, syllables slurred in that juvenile manner children seem unable to shed until they’re about eight. They’re trying to work on it with their five year old, and his words are starting to sound more assured. Jim’s eager to get them both thinking like adults, even if Bones insists they should be grateful for childlike innocence. It’s sentimental and not practical but he loves Bones for it.

Jim can be the instructor, Bones can be their carer.

“You’ll have to ask the chef,” Jim smirks, setting the chubby limbed child down onto the warm tiled floor of the veranda, holding his hand until he tots out of reach.

Bones can say no to him, and frequently does, but he’s defenceless against their children. Right now, Jim could really go for some ice cream; it’s a hot day, too hot to go without ice cream.

“Can we have ice cream,” the child asks again, louder and in Bones’ direction.

“Did Daddy put you up to this?” Bones asks, raising an eyebrow.

He gets a matched one in return, blonde though, and a shake of the head. “No,” urges the child, pouting, “I just want ice cream myself.”

“For a man who pillages through the solar system like it’s a day at the seaside you’re persuasive tactics are slipping, Jim,” Bones notes, smirking at his lover.

“I _really_ didn’t put him up to it,” Jim promises, smiling down at the reflection of blue eyes, “although now that you mention ice cream, it’s definitely something I could get behind.”

“Damn Kirks,” Bones mutters. “You won’t look very scary sat here with an ice cream cone.”

“It’ll have to be our secret then,” Jim whispers, lifting the child back onto his hip, “right, buddy?”

“Right,” the child mimics enthusiastically.

“I’ll go back to being scary tomorrow,” Jim swears, kissing Bones’ cheek.

“Mm, or maybe the day after that,” Bones murmurs, leaning into the kiss and dotting a smear of ice cream on their son’s cheek. The sound of his little giggle is like the tinkling of crystal.

"Whenever's good for you, Bones," Jim smirks, "no rush." 

In another life Jim might have been left to die on a pool of his own blood on the grotty floor of an Iowan dive bar. But in this one he is King of an exotic world. Pike should have shot him the minute he walked onto Academy grounds. But he didn’t. And now Jim has everything his mentor never did. A loyal lover, two shining children. He has a home. He has a family.


End file.
